


Stars Overhead

by Thistlerose



Series: On the Blind Side of the Heart [5]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chang Wufei is left feeling a little aimless after Marie Maia's failed coup.  While recuperating and waiting for his erstwhile friends to decide on the Gundams' fate, he runs into Dorothy Catalonia.  After a rocky start, they begin to realize they have quite a bit in common; for one thing, they're both pretty messed up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stars Overhead

It snowed during the night. When I woke early the next morning and glanced out my window I barely recognized the place. The ruined buildings were covered with white powder, and icicles dangled from the bare black branches like glass leaves. It was as though everything that had transpired two days ago never happened. There was never any battle. There was never a betrayal.

What a lie.

As I washed my face in the bathroom sink, I studied my reflection. Strange, every time I looked into a mirror I expected to see a change in myself, some indication that I had finally grown up, a physical manifestation of what I felt. Each time the same dark eyes looked back at me, the same grim mouth and stubborn chin. It was frustrating, but at the same time I knew that I was being stupid. All of my feelings, all my thoughts did not require affirmation.

And yet, when I looked at the faces of my former comrades, the other four Gundam pilots, I saw that they had changed over the course of the past year. It was obvious in the way they talked, in their expressions.

So, why was I stuck in the past?

The hotel was almost empty by the time I emerged from my room, at shortly after nine. I knew where the other pilots were. Quatre had tried to convince me, the night before, to go with them to visit Heero Yuy in the hospital this morning. Part of me wanted to go, to apologize for attacking him--for almost killing him--during the battle. But part of me was afraid. I'd always looked up to him, believe it or not, had always thought of him as the perfect soldier. His passions did not rule his actions, as mine did. So I did not want to see him in a hospital bed, especially since I had helped to put him there. How Quatre, Duo, Trowa, and Relena Peacecraft could stand it, I didn't know. Maybe they were stronger than I was.

I soon discovered that Trowa had not gone either. I found him standing by the window in the lobby as I wandered aimlessly through the hotel. I don't know what he was doing, if he was waiting for someone or just looking at the snow. I considered approaching him, because of all of them he was the only one I'd ever felt any companionship toward.

But I had hurt Trowa, too. I don't know anything about his quarrel with Dekim Barton, but I know that he had hated the man. I'd seen it in his eyes when I'd stopped him from killing him. The intensity of his feeling surprised me, still made me shake my head with wonder. And I'd forced him to side with a man he hated. True I had done it to save his life, but I had not enjoyed putting a gun to his head and ordering him to turn from the path that he thought was right.

So I left Trowa alone with his thoughts. I ducked back out of the lobby and wandered down the long hallway. Its emptiness surprised me, but I guess there was a lot to do in the city. President Brussels had marched here with the other citizens I had rallied, and so other world leaders had flocked here to meet with him. Weapons were being dismantled, and damaged buildings repaired. And of course, there were the wounded to tend to. I wondered how Marie Maia Khushrenada was doing. I had been told that Dekim Barton shot her when his plan failed, although some thought he had been aiming for Relena, and Marie Maia got in the way. I did not want her to die, although I did not know if it was because she was Treize's daughter, or despite that fact.

I had to find something to do, or else I'd go crazy. I could take a look at Nataku, I thought idly, but I could dredge up no enthusiasm for that idea. When Quatre and the others came back they would want to discuss the fate of the Gundams. They would probably decide to destroy them. So be it. I'd made my peace with Treize; Nataku--and my dead wife's spirit--could rest, finally, even if I could not.

I began peeking into rooms. There was nothing in the gymnasium to interest me, just a couple of exercise bikes, a rowing machine, and a shallow swimming pool. There was some activity in the kitchen, so I was able to grab a few buttered rolls.

As I stood munching on them by the large dining room window, I heard Beethoven. Curious, I looked out across the snow-dusted courtyard, to the west wing. There was one lit window. The curtains were partially drawn and I glimpsed a section of shiny black wood, which I took to be a piano. So, it was not a recording, but an actual person playing. I could not think who else would still be here, so, because I had nothing better to do, I swallowed the rest of my roll and went to investigate.

I followed the music to a partially open door and looked inside. A fancy chandelier hung from the ceiling, boring--but obviously expensive--paintings adorned the walls, the curtains were of plum-colored velvet, and big ferns sat in shiny brass pots on the floor. I don't know what the room had been intended for originally--probably small, private cocktail parties. At the moment it was a mess. There were books all over the floor, some in disorderly piles, most just strewn about. A quick glance at the topmost books told me that they had probably been rescued from some ruined building; their covers were torn, and soot-covered.

The piano stood in the corner by the window. Pale sunlight spilled onto it and onto the long hair of the girl who was playing so it looked as though she was wearing a veil of platinum silk. I could not see her face, but I was certain I had seen that hair before, and not long ago. It occurred to me that she might have been one of the citizens that came with me to stand up to Marie Maia. At the moment she was playing the Moonlight Sonata--very well, I might add--so I waited in the doorway, listening, and watching her thin white hands dance over the keys.

I became pretty engrossed in the music, so when she finally flubbed a note, I jumped. She swore softly, found the right key, and continued. A minute later she flubbed another note. “Damn,” she muttered. Then, without looking up, “My grandfather had this very old piano at his mansion in Boulogne. It was two hundred years old. I used to love looking at it whenever I was there. He wouldn't let me play it, though. Some of the keys were chipped and when I was very little I asked him if the elephant had had cavities. That's the only time I can remember seeing my grandfather laugh. Hello, Chang Wufei. We meet at last.”

She turned and smiled up at me. I was struck, first by the fact that she knew who I was, and second by her face. It was an...arresting face, too interesting to be ugly, but not beautiful, either. Her skin was very pale, almost unhealthily so, her forehead high and wide, her eyes light as the winter sky. Her dark, forked eyebrows betrayed her identity at once.

“You're Treize Khushrenada's cousin,” I said. “Dorothy Catalonia.”

“And so I am.” She tossed her hair.

“You helped lead the White Fang. And you stabbed Quatre.”

“You killed my cousin.” She cocked her head slightly. “Want to fight?”

For a moment I thought she was serious. But then she laughed and tossed her hair again and I realized she was not. In the silence that followed I found myself staring at her hair. It shimmered in the wintry light, like a frozen waterfall. I shook myself. _She should repulse you,_ I thought. _Think about what she did._ I did think about it, and then I thought about what I had done, and I was not repulsed. Frankly, I was attracted, in an odd, perhaps twisted way. She wasn't like any of the others, you see. She wasn't pure. All of us had blood on our hands--well, perhaps not Relena Peacecraft--but she had come about hers the same way I had come about mine. We'd both followed the darker path to the light. We'd both become evil so that we might better understand the good.

Of all the people that there were in this city, she was perhaps the only one I had any desire to talk to, I realized, the only one who could possibly understand me.

“Look at all of these books,” Dorothy said, rising from the piano seat and gesturing about the room. “These were rescued from the Brussels Presidential Residence. Quite an impressive collection, don't you think?” She chose one, blew the ashes off its cover, and studied it for a moment in thoughtful silence. “This copy of _A Separate Peace_ predates the After Colony Era. Imagine how much history it has born witness to. And to think, it was almost destroyed by the very thing it protests.” She smiled at me. “I'm sure you can appreciate the irony, as an intellectual.”

I picked up a book. After wiping the cover clean with my shirtsleeve I saw that it was a collection of Shakespeare's history plays. I remembered reading them at school. I'd read them in chronological order, rather than the order in which they were written, starting with _Richard II_ and ending with _Richard III_. I'd enjoyed the second tetralogy, although I had found the ending of Henry V discouraging. The first tetralogy - which came second chronologically - depressed me, mostly because I knew the true history of the War of the Roses, knew that Richmond was not the great hero Shakespeare had made him out to be. The violence continued, only the names of the ones in power changed.

“Yes,” Dorothy agreed, when I told her. “I do wonder what history will say about us. I don't really like to think about it, given my less than heroic role thus far. When I was in school I wanted to be an actress. I wanted to play Lady Macbeth more than anything. I don't think I would want to be her in real life.”

“I wonder what history will say about all of us. But don't forget history is written by the victors. You could write your own history, that means. The real Macbeth wasn't such a bad person. Duncan invaded his land; that's why he killed him--in battle. He also ruled halfway decently, if I remember, until Malcolm or Donald Blane or whichever it was killed him and his son.”

“I'd rather get it right,” she surprised me by saying. “I wouldn't gloss over anything. That way there would be less of a chance of it repeating itself.” She sighed and hugged her arms to her chest and for a moment looked very young, her face almost lost behind her hair. “Do you think it's really over?” she asked.

I stared at her. She could have been asking my opinion on the ramifications of the Treaty of L-2 in AC 88.

“Really,” she said, “between intellectuals and evil-doers, do you think wars are finally over?”

I had to shake myself again. The abrupt change surprised me, as had the question. “I was there when Marie Maia's soldiers threw down their weapons and burned their uniforms,” I said slowly, thinking about it as I did. “We're going to destroy the Gundams.”

“But do you think that's enough? Do you think the hearts of men have truly changed?”

I hesitated. She regarded me intensely with her winter-blue eyes. I did not know how to answer her. I'd never had a conversation like this with anyone, and I barely knew her. “I don't know,” I admitted finally, and rather reluctantly. I wanted to know as much as she did.

She stared at me for a moment longer, and I stared back. Finally she shrugged and said in her normal, almost sing-song tone, “Perhaps we'll never know! How frustrating. But I guess that's true of any age that manages to achieve peace.” She picked up another book and scrutinized it. “Funny thing about books,” she said, almost to herself it seemed, “I read so many histories because I wanted to know why things were the way they were. But while the events they described fascinated me, I found them lacking in terms of human interest. Sometimes I thought I learned more from made-up stories about fictional characters. I thought to make people understand history one had to use it like a stage. You needed to make the set and find the actors and give them a script they could read. Did you find that to be true, Wufei?” She glanced at me and a slight smile slid across her mouth.

I wanted to disagree with her, but I could not. That was how I used to think, too, with one exception. “We're all actors on history's stage,” I told her. “Even the ones who write the scripts have a role to play, and if they don't realize it, then they are foolish and weak. Treize used to think that way.” For a second I thought I'd misspoken; she flushed slightly, and looked down at her book. “I'm sorry,” I stammered. An apology from me was a rare thing, and I did not feel truly contrite; I'd meant what I said and I believe that people have to face the truth about all things. But for some reason I did not want this strange discussion to end. I couldn't say I was enjoying it, but she held my interest and it had been a long time since anyone had managed to do that.

Her smile faded. “I loved Treize Khushrenada,” she said simply, answering my unspoken question. “He was like an older brother to me when we were younger. But I had no illusions about him. I loved him for the kindness he showed me, and for his utter blindness to the world around him. I thought he was very tragic and beautiful. I did not want him to die. I realize now that he had to. He belonged to an older era, one that had to end. I don't blame you for his death.”

“I never asked for absolution. He ordered the attack on my colony. A ‘sweep' OZ called it. Still, if it helps, I think he knew. When he came at me that last time he left himself wide open. I shouldn't have won that fight. He was the better pilot. I did not expect to win. I expected to die.”

She stared at me, her mouth making a little ‘o'. “Why?” she asked softly.

“Because there was nothing for me to live for, Dorothy!” I snapped. I wanted to talk to her, but not about this. Nothing had changed. I still had nothing to live for, only a reason to stop fighting. “I have no home to go back to. None.” I turned to go.

“I have no home, either.”

That's too bad for both of us then, Dorothy. “I'm sorry,” I said instead and left her alone with her fictions and histories and regrets.

Quatre and Duo would be back soon, and then it would be time to talk about what to do with the remaining four Gundams.

* * * *

From the roof of the hotel I could just see the silhouettes of the four Gundams. I could tell Quatre's Sandrock by the wings on its shoulders, but I had trouble discerning the others. I squinted in the darkness, wishing I had my glasses. I'd worn them all the time at school because without them I'd had trouble seeing the blackboard from the back of the lecture hall. I had not needed them so much during the war because I'd had Nataku's eyes. I would have to get a new pair, I realized.

My discussion with Quatre, Duo, and Trowa that afternoon had gone as I'd predicted. In three days time, we decided, once it was clear that we were no longer needed here, we would take our Gundams to a ravine that Quatre had shown us on a map, and there we would detonate our Gundams by remote control. Well, the three of them would do it there. I wanted to be alone when I destroyed Nataku, and they had seemed to understand.

So it was decided, and really, I had no regrets. I had to let go of Nataku if I ever wanted to put the past behind me. And as Quatre had said, there was no need for the Gundams in this new, peaceful era. Duo called what we were doing a leap of faith. I knew they were right, but I wished I shared their optimism.

After our meeting, Duo and Relena went back to visit Heero. Quatre managed to convince Trowa to take the evening shift with him. He'd tried to persuade me to go, but I was still not ready. I'd wandered around the hotel again, instead. I stopped by the cocktail lounge or whatever it was, half-hoping to see Dorothy again, but she was not there. I went in anyway and spent the remainder of the afternoon and the early part of the evening thumbing through the books, making note of which ones I had not yet read, that I ought to.

Now it was night, and I'd been on the roof for the better part of an hour. The lights in the city below me were going out one by one, leaving me in darkness. It was very cold. The sky was clouding up; it would probably snow again. I looked up at the stars, which were slowly being blotted out of the sky. I wanted a sign, I think, something that would tell me that I had made the right decision, finally. Then I could go to bed. But it only got colder and darker. I began to shiver. I had a fleece-lined parka, but it wasn't enough.

Just as I was beginning to think there was no point in my being up there at all a flicker of movement drew my attention to the hotel's entrance. There was very little starlight now, but what little there was glinted off the long, pale hair of the person making her way down the street.

There was my sign. But suddenly I had no desire to go to bed. I watched her progress for a moment longer, to make sure she hadn't just stepped out for a breath of air; then I went back into the hotel and hurried down the stairs to the entranceway. She was out of sight by then, but I had a good idea where she was heading. I ran after her through the darkened streets.

I was no longer cold by the time I reached the Gundams, but I did not see Dorothy. I moved between the enormous gundanium legs, scanning for her. Had I been wrong? But no, as I passed Deathscythe I heard a soft scraping sound and a muffled curse.

I peered up into the darkness and caught a flash of white against the blackness of Deathscythe's left foot.

“Dorothy!” I hissed.

A gunshot cracked the air.

“Shit!” I ran to Deathyscythe, moving frantically from spot to spot, trying to see where her body would fall. It never did. Instead a branch fell down from the tree I had been standing in front of, and three rooks leaped up into the air, flapping their black wings and cawing angrily.

“Goddamit, woman!” I shouted. “What are you trying to do? Get down here!”

“Wufei?”

She sounded far away, although she was not that high above me.

“Yes, it's me, you little fool. Get down now!”

“I--I thought it was someone else.” Her voice trembled; I imagined it batted about in the air between us.

“I'm the only one here. Dorothy, WHAT are you doing?” In my anger and confusion I could think of only one thing: she meant to steal one of the Gundams. I could not begin to guess her reason. Madness was a distinct possibility. Or maybe she was even more like me than I'd thought. She was a warrior; maybe she thought as I had, that fulfillment could only be found in battle. And after our talk that morning... Duplicitous, lying bitch!

But then I had another thought: if she had truly meant to steal one of the Gundams, she would not have bothered with the warning shot. She would not have shot at all and thus given away her location.

“Dorothy,” I said again, trying to control my wrath, “come down.” Silence. “Dorothy!” I barked.

“I'm coming!” she snapped. “Give me a moment. This isn't as easy at it looks.”

I waited. Gradually the slip of white against the black Gundam became more easily discernible. She was climbing down, slowly. I heard her swearing again. She was inventive, I gave her that. As she came closer I saw the gun strapped to her back. That couldn't be making things easy. The icy wind caught her hair and buffeted it about. How could she see what she was doing?

I realized she was going to fall about three seconds before she actually did. So I was able to get under her and catch her. Her head knocked into mine and we both fell into the snow.

I lay on my back for a few minutes, sucking air into my lungs and rubbing my wrenched arm. When I could speak the first words out of my mouth were, “Goddamit, woman!” Then, as she had said nothing, had not even cried out, “Are you all right?”

“I'm fine. Ow.”

She didn't sound fine. I rolled onto my knees and crawled over to where she lay. “Where are you hurt? Come on, Dorothy.”

“I'm fine.” She shrugged me off, climbed unsteadily to her feet. She was wearing a silver-white, fur-lined ski-outfit; not the kind of outfit an intellectual would pick for nighttime skullduggery.

I rose as well, brushing snow off my jeans and parka. “What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded again. “You owe me an explanation.”

“I owe you nothing,” she said proudly. She lifted her chin; her hair billowed around her like smoke. “But if you must know, I was guarding your Gundams.”

“You were what? From whom?”

“From people. From the people who still think there's a war to be fought. Don't you understand?”

I continued to look at her blankly.

She went on, her voice becoming shrill with vehemence: “From people like us, Wufei! From people who just don't know how to live in a peaceful era.”

“So you were going to shoot anyone who approached the Gundams? You hypocrite. If the peace is to hold EVERYONE must throw down their weapons.”

“You don't believe that,” she shot back. I could see her flush of anger, even in the darkness. “You believe as I do, that there's much more to peace than simply discarding weapons. The hearts of men must change, and how can we accomplish that?”

“I don't know,” I said. “Sometimes they just do. Mine did. I have no more desire to fight.”

“Nor have I.” She gripped the strap of her gun. Was she trembling? “I'm so sick of fighting. But I'll do whatever it takes to teach the people that there must never be another war.”

“Violence is not the means to that end.” I sighed. I was cold and tired. “If you think I'm wrong maybe you should start with me.” I took a step toward her. She stumbled back. “Go on. I was one of the ones who could not accept Relena Peacecraft's peace. I think I've changed, but maybe I'm wrong. So maybe you should kill me. You know so much about the hearts of men.” She continued to clutch the strap, but she took another backward step. “No? Then wait here. I have something to show you.”

I turned my back on her and went to my Gundam. I couldn't see very well, but I had little trouble reaching the hatch. I punched in the access code, then palmed the hatch open and slipped inside. I found what I wanted quickly and went back down to Dorothy.

“Here,” I said, thrusting the thing I had retrieved into her hands.

“What's this?” She took it curiously.

“It's the reason I'll never fight another battle. It's my proof, if you like.”

“It's a book.” She opened it and squinted at the pages, but there was no light. She held it close to her eyes. “I can't read this.”

“It's Chinese. It's a book of poems. It's all that's left of Colony A0206. It belonged to my wife.”

“Your...wife?”

“Yes.” I took the book from her suddenly limp hands and turned to a page I knew well. “This...” I picked up the flower, carefully, and cupped my hand around it to shield it from the wind. The petals had once been scarlet; now they were a dull reddish brown, liked dried blood. “I buried my wife, Long Meilan, in a field of these flowers. She died defending the field...” I almost said who she had been defending the field against, but I restrained myself. I was through with blame. “I took this flower right before I left my colony with Nataku. I didn't love my wife, Dorothy. I barely knew her. Our marriage was arranged by our Clan elders. So I never actually mourned her. All I could mourn is what might have been. I brought the book and the flower as a reminder of the justice I sought. What I found was that justice is next to impossible to find. You have to make it and even then it's so hard to get it right. I'm not sorry Treize is dead, but I AM sorry that I killed someone's father, someone's cousin.” I sighed. When she said nothing I continued: “What I'm trying to say is, I'm tired of fighting. I accomplished more just TALKING to people than I ever did on the battlefield. Do you understand?”

Very slowly she nodded. She said, in the ghost of a voice, “My father believed as you do now. Only it took him a lifetime of fighting to realize that what he was doing was wrong. He was murdered for his beliefs. I wanted to avenge his death and I wanted to show the world what a sick, sad thing war is. I tried talking, but my grandfather and his people would not listen, so I turned to violence because I couldn't think of anything else. You're right, though. I accomplished more just _telling_ the people that they had to stand up for themselves than I ever did trying to terrorize them.”

I pushed the book at her. “Take it,” I said, when she blinked at me. “I don't need this anymore, and I think you do. I was going to blow it up with Nataku, but I'd rather you keep it.”

She accepted the book and held it against her chest. Then she unslung the gun from her shoulder and held it toward me. “Blow this up instead.”

I took the gun. “I will.”

After I put the gun in Nataku and resealed the hatch we began to walk back toward the hotel. We walked slowly. Sometimes we talked. I looked at her a great deal. I'd never been attracted, physically, to Meilan. She'd been just a little slip of a thing when we were married, and at school I'd been too preoccupied with my studies to give girls a second thought. Sally Po and Lucrezia Noin were really the only other women I'd had any contact with, and they were both several years my senior. Relena Peacecraft was very pretty, I've allowed, but I never found her all that alluring. She was always so wholesome-looking. This one, on the other hand...

It wasn't her face, although I found her features interesting. To be blunt she had a terrific body. The tight-fitting ski-outfit emphasized curves and sinew, and the longest legs I had ever seen. She had a sexy walk, too. She moved like a cat; I wondered if she was aware. And she had a brain. Without that, the rest would have been worthless.

She caught me looking at her a couple of times. Each time she flashed me a smile that made me very much aware of the fact that I was a hormonal sixteen-year-old guy.

“What do you think you'll do now?” I asked at one point.

“I don't know,” she answered, looking up at the sky. “I've been talking with Miss Relena about that. She seems to think there are a lot of options open to me. She suggested politics, but I don't think so. For a variety of reasons I think the political arena would not be a healthy place for me. Then there's school. I interrupted my studies to play devil's advocate in the Cinq Kingdom a year and a half ago. But I could read books any time. I spent this past year teaching myself Calculus, Latin, Chemistry, and Physics. Lady Une suggested I join the Preventers. They're being given a much higher budget this year, so they can afford more operatives.”

“Preventers?” I said. “What are they?”

Dorothy smiled faintly. “They were supposed to prevent things like Marie Maia's uprising. The problem is that they have too few operatives and not very many people know about them. I've been discussing tactics with Lady Une and I have quite a few ideas. Incidentally,” she added, lifting her eyebrows, “Marie Maia will live. And Lady Une is thinking of adopting her. She's awfully forgiving, don't you think? But then I suppose Treize didn't even know her when he slept with Leia Barton.”

I stuffed my hands into my pockets. “That's good,” I muttered, about Marie Maia.

“She is my second cousin,” Dorothy said.

That was true; I hadn't thought about that before. “I'm glad she'll be all right,” I said, and meant it. _Let there be an end to people dying as a result of this war._ Aloud I said, “I wonder how she'll turn out.”

“The vice-president of the Treize-fan club if Une is in charge of her upbringing. But no, I think she'll be all right. I begin to think we all will be.”

I stopped walking when we came in sight of the hotel. “In answer to your earlier question,” I said, when she too stopped and looked at me, puzzled, “I don't know if the hearts of men have truly changed. Duo says that in destroying the Gundams we're taking a leap of faith. Quatre seems to think that's all we can do.”

“Just trust that the peace will hold?”

“Yes.”

She sighed wearily and pushed the hair out of her face. “I keep thinking about all the history books I've read, and all the fictions. So many times humanity has thought it's finally seen the end of war. And each time that hope has failed. I was thinking earlier about the flame at Heiwa-koen. It was a memorial to the people who died at Hiroshima in CE 1945. It was supposed to last until the last nuclear weapon had been dismantled. And it did. When I was about twelve I found an ancient recording of this very young girl putting out the flame. The people standing around her seemed so full of hope. I used to watch that recording over and over, and then I'd turn it off and watch the war update on the television. We only found new ways to kill each other. I'm tired, Wufei. So very tired of all of this. I have hope, but I don't think I could bear to have that hope betrayed again.”

“What else can we do, Dorothy, when hope is all we have?”

She smiled at that. And then, to my surprise, she began to laugh. It was a soft sound at first, barely a rustling in the air. By and by, though, her laughter deepened and as it did the snow began to come down. It fell into her hair and melted. It fell onto my shoulders and I did not brush it away.

“Yes,” she bubbled finally, “yes, it's true, isn't it? Hope is all we have. It's all we've ever had, since the beginning of time. Somehow, humanity endures.”

I took her by the shoulders and pulled her into my arms. She held onto me as she shook with laughter, and I ran my fingers through her hair, which was pale and supple as starlight. “I have hope, Dorothy,” I whispered, “and that's a thing I never thought I'd say.” And the fact that I could say that seemed no stranger to me than the fact that I had this girl in my arms.

“We are creatures of the night, you and I, Wufei,” she said softly, against my neck. “But we have a light to see by.”

I looked up at the sky. “It's cloudy.”

“That does not mean there are no stars shining. It's so strange.” She turned her head on my shoulder and held me tighter. “I should hate you.”

“That would be the logical reaction.” Logic? What was that?

“But I don't,” she said. “I want to toss you up into the stars so everyone can see and think ‘This is how far we've come.' If people take up arms again I'll do what I can to stop them, but I won't use their methods. I think I'll become a Preventer, after all. Here is my pledge.” She turned slightly in my arms and leaning up, kissed my mouth.

I wish I could remember exactly what she tasted like. Persimmons and cinnamon, and other spices, and then the kiss was over too quickly, and I was too baffled to do more than grip her waist and try to remain on my feet. I caught a whiff of her perfume--a delicate, wintry, lavender scent--and it was over.

“That is my pledge,” she said again, looking up at me. “Of my own free will I kissed the man who killed my kin.” There were snowflakes on her lashes.

Looking back, I think I was supposed to return the kiss and say something like “I've just kissed the kin of my enemy; this is my pledge,” but at that moment all I seemed capable of doing was staring at her and making stupid sounds that weren't quite words. I think I wish I'd kissed her. I've done some fantasizing since then, and things always go well in my imagination. But at that moment I had no idea what to do. I'd never kissed a woman before. Maybe I was afraid of appearing foolish or inexperienced. Anyway, I did nothing.

If my inaction disappointed her, it was impossible to tell. The darkness obscured her features, except for her eyes and one corner of her mouth, which was quirked upward. “Anyway,” she said after a moment, as though nothing had happened, “I   
have hope. Thank you for reminding me, Wufei.”

She looked up at me a moment longer and I thought, Winter witch. Snow faerie--and I don't mean the pretty, flimsy kind in Victorian illustrations; I'm talking about one out of the marchen, European bedtime stories intended to make children behave. Wild woman, what have you done to me?

But she turned again before I'd come up with any kind of an answer, and began to walk back toward the hotel, leaving me with no choice but to follow.

* * * *

Three days later Quatre, Duo, and Trowa took their Gundams to the ravine they'd chosen and detonated them there. I think Quatre and Duo were hoping I'd change my mind, but I did not join them. Shortly before I flew Nataku to the valley I'd chosen as its final resting place I thought to invite Dorothy. I'd only caught glimpses of her since the night we talked--I think she was often with Lady Une, Lucrezia Noin, and Zechs Merquise, discussing Preventer tactics--but thought that it might please her, and strengthen her hope, to be there. I looked for her, but then I learned from the maid who was vacuuming the room where the piano and all the books had been (they'd been moved, by then, to the newly reopened library) that she had left early that morning. So I went alone.

It was just as well I was alone. I'd chosen a quiet, secluded valley, one that put me in mind of a few valleys I'd seen in China, where I'd landed when I first came to Earth a year and a half ago.

One dotted here and there with little scarlet flowers.

I was glad I'd given the book to Dorothy, I thought, as I watched Nataku burn. The emerald, crimson, and gold paint was gone, as was the dragon. It was really nothing but a hulk of gundanium. But a young girl had died to protect it, and a valley like this one. I was glad to know that the universe still held a tangible piece of her.

I sat on the grass and watched until the metal began to twist and curl and no longer resembled a Gundam, no longer resembled anything except a sorry heap. I watched until there wasn't anything left and the sun began to sink behind the valley walls turning everything around me scarlet and gold and deep lavender in the shadows. Finally I rose and started to leave.

I stopped when someone said my name.

No, it was not Dorothy. It was Sally Po, a woman I'd once almost considered a friend, but had lost track of after the end of the Eve War.

“Wufei,” she said, that familiar ripple of amusement in her voice taking me back one year to a time when I'd felt needed and necessary. “Noin and Zechs have run off somewhere, so I'm short a partner. What do you say?”

I tilted my head back and looked up at the sky. In the east, where the sky was already dark with night, the stars were coming out, slowly. It would be a brilliant night. “A Preventer?” I said, turning the idea over in my head, and thinking about the possibilities. It did not take me long to decide. “Sounds good to me.”

 

9/09/02


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